


Disembodied

by Redrikki



Category: LEGO Star Wars: The Freemaker Adventures (Cartoon), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Decapitation, Gen, Inner Lives of Droids, Robots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-11 17:24:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11719017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redrikki/pseuds/Redrikki
Summary: Roger loses his head and, frankly, it's getting old.





	Disembodied

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [hurt/comfort bingo](http://hc-bingo.dreamwidth.org/145157.html?thread=945669) challenge "head trauma." 
> 
> After binge watching this show's entire first season this fic practically wrote itself. Quick, go watch it now if you haven't already.

Blaster fire. Groaning metal. Shattering glass. Panicked yelling. Yup, it was shaping up to be another typical day at Freemaker Salvage and Repair. Lately it was almost like Roger was still stuck in the Clone Wars. 

“You know what would be nice?” Roger asked the galaxy in general. He was pretty sure everyone was too busy fighting for their lives to pay much attention to him, but sometimes a droid just needed to vent before it overloaded his circuits. “If I could go one week without getting decapitated, that would be great.”

His body had to be around here somewhere. He could hear its gears working as it searched for his head. Blaster bolts whizzed by. His body hit the ground with a metallic thud just inches from his nose. “Seriously?” Why did terrible things keep happening to him? Sliced up by Jedi during the Clone Wars. Torn to pieces by wild animals that moon. Organics didn’t have to put up with this sort of thing, or at least not more than once. Sometimes it just seemed like the galaxy hated droids.

A familiar set of feet pounded into view and then Rowan was scooping him up. And by him, Roger meant his head. The boy ran for the ship, dodging blaster bolts and leaving the rest of him just lying there.

“Wait! My body,” Roger cried. If only he still had hands so he could reach for it dramatically. “It’s a collector’s item.”

“Go! We’ve got it." Kordi threw herself to her knees beside him and pulled Roger’s arm across her shoulders. Groaning, she tried to haul him up. Zander rushed in to help and together they got him to his feet. Roger could see a new line of carbon scoring across his chest and he was not looking forward to buffing that out.

The four of them raced for the ship with what felt like an entire platoon of stormtroopers hot on their tails. Rowan made it in first and set Roger’s head on the dashboard as he fired up the engine. Looking through the viewport, Roger could see a pair of troop transports coming in for a landing. “Uh oh. We’re about to have a lot of company.”

“Zander get us out of here!” Kordi tossed Roger’s body aside as she lunged for the controls. It hit the floor with a painful sounding clank. Roger couldn’t see, but he just bet he had a new dent from that. 

Blaster fire peppered the ship as they lifted off. Then the troop transports’ canon opened up and _StarScavanger_ shuddered under the barrage. The ship lurched as it took a second hit and Roger rolled right off the dash. He bounced hard on the floor and landed face down. Everyone was too busy freaking out to catch his indignant “Ow.”

It was impossible to see what was going in. _StarScavanger_ jogged left and Roger slammed into the base of Rowan’s chair. They banked right and he came to rest against his own feet.   
“I lived a peaceful life once, you know,” Roger told them. As a battle droid, he’d been made for combat but, in between the Clone Wars and the Freemakers, there had been a few years where no one shot at him at all. His transmitter had been so badly damaged during the Battle of Kashyyyk that he never received the termination signal that deactivated his fellow battle droids. He spent eight years alone on a derelict cruiser with the empty shells of his deactivated friends. In retrospect, those where the loneliest, most crushingly boring years of Roger’s life.

The engine’s crescendoed and then changed key as the ship made the jump to hyperspace. Rowan came over and picked Roger up. “I’m sorry you lost your head again,” he said as he reconnected it to Roger’s neck. 

His circuits took a moment to reset and then Roger could feel his body again. There was sand in his gears, the blaster shot stung, and he was definitely dented where Kordi and Zander had dropped him. “It’s alright,” he said, straightening his head. “It could be a lot worse.”


End file.
